A few weeks ago, I started a sourdough starter. Somewhere between feeding schedules, bubbles that appeared and disappeared, and wondering if I had ruined it, I realized something unexpected: this tiny jar of flour and water was teaching me about being a late bloomer in life.
I am a late bloomer.
Many of the most meaningful milestones in my life arrived later than what society often labels as “on time.” I became a parent in my early thirties. I changed careers in my late forties. I started my private practice in my fifties. For a long time, I carried the quiet belief that I was behind — like I had somehow missed the timeline everyone else seemed to follow.
What sourdough is teaching me is simple and profound: growth does not always follow a universal schedule!
When you start a sourdough starter, you expect quick, obvious signs of life. But many starters don’t work that way. Some take off quickly. Others sit quietly, showing only small signs of activity, a few bubbles, a subtle sour smell — long before any visible rise happens. If you judged only by what you could see early on, you might assume it isn’t working at all.
But underneath, transformation is happening.
This mirrors human growth in so many ways. Especially when life circumstances, trauma, or limited resources shape our early years, growth may not look fast or linear. Many people are doing deep, invisible work long before the outside world sees any “results.”
Sourdough starter also taught me that environment matters more than speed. A starter needs warmth, consistency, and nourishment. Not perfection. Not constant comparison. Not panic when it doesn’t double on someone else’s timeline.
People are not so different.
Many of us bloom when we finally reach environments of safety, stability, and support. What gets labeled as “late success” is often growth that became possible once the conditions were right. That isn’t failure. That is readiness.
There’s also a phase in sourdough where, if you don’t feed it on time, it develops a sharp smell. Bakers know this isn’t failure — it’s hunger. It needs nourishment, not shame!
How often do we do the opposite to ourselves?
Perhaps the most comforting lesson sourdough offers is this: progress is cyclical. Feed. Rise. Fall. Feed again. And over time, strength builds.
Looking back, my life has followed this same pattern. Periods of growth. Periods of rest. Periods of reinvention. Each cycle building something stronger than the last.
Sometimes, we feel like we are stuck in the wilderness of our lives, unsure if anything is growing, unsure if we are moving forward at all. But growth does not stop just because it is not visible. Sometimes we are not lost. Sometimes we are becoming.
Just like my sourdough starter (I named it David), who spent what felt like days in the wilderness… and then decided to bloom in ‘his’ own time.
If you think you are a late bloomer, I want you to hear this clearly: you are not behind. You are not failing. You are not too late.
You may be building roots.
You may be gathering strength.
You may be waiting for the right conditions.
And when growth happens, it will be real, sustainable, and yours.
If this resonates with you, I invite you to pause and ask yourself:
Where in my life am I judging timing instead of honoring growth?
If you are in a quiet season right now, consider this your reminder:
You are not late.
You are not broken.
You are not lost in the wilderness.
You may simply be getting ready to rise.
Healing and growth were never meant to happen in isolation. And if you are navigating your own season of slow growth, healing, or reinvention, know that you don’t have to do that work alone. The right support, safety, and environment can make all the difference.